


Darkness in the Tents

by bookwormx10



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormx10/pseuds/bookwormx10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The circus had always been shadowed in mystery and old legends. For decades it had not failed to show at least once a year. Superstitions surround it like flies on honey. There's no escaping the dark calling of it. Teenagers go to see grotesque acts, but they don't really know of the performers backgrounds. They don't know the true secrets the lurk within the tents...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rumors had always swirled in the air like flies in a swarm when the circus came into town. It'd be there overnight out of the blue. Instead of an empty grass field a red and white, tattered and tired tent would be set up hanging together by only threads. Each year it would come- always at random times. No one knew how long the circus would stay and no one knew if circus was truly the right word. Freak show may have been a better description. It never failed to show in over forty years. The circus always came.   
Yellow and pink rain stained fliers would be found stapled to posts and lying on benches in the dreary coastal town. They were the same every year just like the circus. Parents always nudged their kids away from the fliers if they were to ever catch their attention. Those red and white tents were a source of taboo. The older population of the town whispered of black magic being used. The religious side accused the workers of devil worship. And then there were those few daring people, the ones that had a spark of rebellion nested and fed in their hearts, the ones willing to see the much talked about circus. Those people varied though almost always they were teenagers. Teenagers with piercings up and down their bodies and tattoo clad arms. Teenagers in mini skirts carrying Gucci purses. Teenagers with ripped jeans and oversized college sweatshirts. It didn't matter what social circle you were from, only if you were daring enough to lift the heavy flap of the big top tent and sit in the rickety bleachers that were a law suit waiting to happen.  
Admission was always free at the circus. There was no ticket man or greeter. One simply had to walk in and take a seat in the dimly lit area. It was damp inside the tent with a collection of moisture sticking to everyone's forehead and back. The humidity of the place was almost palpable.   
Anxious chatter replaced the tent of its eerie silence. Friends would nervously talk with each other each wishing they could go home soon, but still holding a peculiar longing to stay and see the show. No one ever went twice to the circus. No one held that particular longing more than once. It didn't seem human if one were able to.  
After everyone who was coming arrived the show would start. The air would become ten degrees colder, the teenagers holding their arms against themselves to brace their torsos from the sudden chill. A sparkler would light itself in the middle of the room. The crowd would jump back in fear than laugh and gawk at the mesmerizing light display. When the lights finally sparkled to their last ember he'd be standing their like the devil himself. The ringmaster was a short man with a round belly. Not noticeably intimidating at first. Inky black curls framed his face and his watery blue eye held a mad malice. His rosy lips would curl into something sinister as a vile snake. His gaze would lock on the crowd, boring into each member of the audience individually and seeing the crowd as a whole all at once. He was a magician in himself.  
Then he'd deliver his famous line. A line that in itself was a death sentence and the path to enlightenment.   
“Let the show begin.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You said you went to the circus when you were sixteen. Is that correct Miss Darnbell?”  
“Yes that is correct.” The aged woman nodded solemnly, clearly in discomfort over the topic being discussed, but too strong and stubborn to back down from the oncoming questions.  
“Would you mind describing your experiences there? And your experiences before and after?” The significantly younger girl's mousy brown hair fell in front of her face. Only a third of it remained in the messy, relaxed pony tail held together by a fraying hair tie. Her hands were poised, ready to jot down notes. The lined paper beneath her palm crinkled as she flipped to a fresh page. She placed the metallic graphite on the years old journal, ready for action. Ready to take down a story every other person was too scared to even think of.  
Miss Darnbell inhaled in a sharp sigh. Her exhale was deliberately slow, stalling for time she did not have. She could only hope to procrastinate that particular question. The woman felt her wrinkled hands clasp around each other in silent prayer. She thought of the horrors of that day so many years ago. Miss Darnbell remembered everything as clear as crystal waters despite eons of suppressing the vivid memories. She fought so hard with her mind to release herself of the anguish of knowledge. Miss Darnbell always knew her extreme efforts would not work. She always knew she'd end up in a spot like this. No one left the circus untainted. Everyone got a little stained.   
“No, I would not mind.” Miss Darnbell responded faintly in a feeble, vacant voice. Her pale eyes glistened over like frost on a window on a cold winter's day. There was something unforgivable about the way she answered. It was as if Miss Darnbell was responding to her interrogator instead of a teenage girl.   
The girl looked up from her thick rimmed glasses expectantly, but not without compassion. Her brown eyes danced with the thirst of curiosity. This circus was shrouded in mystery and here she was with an ax, about to break the ice.  
Miss Darnbell heaved yet another sigh, this one much shorter and defeated before beginning with her story.  
“Well, to understand my story you must understand my good friend, Lena.” She began. “She was a wild one. Her hair was teased higher than the Empire State Building. She wore tight clothes that accentuated certain, ah.... attributes. Her tops always cut a little too low and her bras pushed up a little too much.” Miss Darnbell smiley fondly at the memory before nostalgia made her mouth fall into a small frown. She missed Lena.   
“Anyways, you need to understand that where we lived, Lena and I, it was a conservative town. Girls were treated unfairly for expressing themselves the way Lena did. I always admired that in her. She was so brave and bold. She wore what she liked and she wore it with confidence. I always wished to be a little like her, but instead I stuck to sweaters and jeans, skirts and blouses. The respectable choices, naturally.” Miss Darnbell's brow furrowed in frustration as if she was upset with her own actions.  
The girl jotted down notes, her hand flying and whipping across the page faster than a bullet fresh out of a gun.   
“I remember the day we went to the circus better than any other day in my life. I remember it better than even Lena's death. Yes, she's dead now. She has been for quite some time, cancer the doctors said. But I don't believe that rubbish. Lena wasn't the type to be taken by illness, she went on her own accord. She knew it was her time and she accepted that. She had a daughter, Miranda, if I am correct. I don't know where Miranda is, but last I heard she was with a no good, son of a bitch boyfriend that does pot more than he does her.” Miss Darnbell said, getting lost in her own world. The white, sterile walls of the room suddenly seemed encasing like a wire rimmed cage with no way out. Still, Miss Darnbell continued with a fresh tenacity.   
“It was a Monday night when Lena came through my bedroom and announced we were going to the circus. My parents had always warned me about it. But Lena seemed so sure in going that I couldn't argue. I wish now that I did.” She closed her eyes in remorse, steadying herself for the rest of the story. “We went the second year the circus came into town and even by then it was a source of fear and shame. No parents even allowed their children to think about the existence of that retched place.” She spat out the words wit a surprising ferocity.   
“But no one could deny it. Even in the first years the tents were ragged and worn as if they were centuries old. When it came into town the air got a little cooler, a little stiffer. The wind blew a little less and howled a little more. It felt like everything else was just background noise and the circus was a throbbing heart impossible to ignore.  
“But none of that is important, is it? You want to know what happened at the circus and I'll tell you. Almost every person in the audience was between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, no one there was younger, but there were a few in their mid-twenties.   
“Lena and I sat in a front row seat, the wood of the benches was greatly eaten through and terribly damp. Pure disgust crossed my face as my pink skirt touched that seat. Lena sat on it as if it were a throne. Next to us was a boy from my class, Patrick. A lovely boy with orange-blond hair and a constellation of freckles across his face. He gave me a severely nervous smile once I sat down. It didn't help to ease the nerves. The entire atmosphere of he place had held quite a gruesome quality.   
“The circus started with great, roaring fires. I remember feeling the heat sear into my skin like Hell fire. It was quite the shock factor, if I do say so. The heat of it lingered on my skin for ages after that as if it wanted to ravage every inch of me away. The fire had a persona of it's own and I still can feel it to this day.” A shudder ran through the woman's fragile body.  
“I'm sorry, I can't talk about this anymore.” Her voice grew stern and cruel, unwavering in it's statement.  
The girl looked up from her journal, mouth gaping like a fish.  
“But...” She said dumbly. Miss Darnbell had just begun to tell the details of the fascinating story.   
“No, I refuse.” Miss Darnbell turned her head in defiance.  
The girl swallowed a gulp and continued, “Miss Darnbell, can you please tell me about some of the acts? I won't bother you after that, I promise.” She crossed her fingers in foolish hope.  
Miss Darnbell turned to lock eyes with the girl. Intensity waved off both of them.  
“I am willing to share with you one act, but that is all.” The woman's voice clipped each word to bring across the pint that she was highly unhappy continuing the conversation.  
The girl could hardly contain her childish grin of delight and nodded for Miss Darnbell to continue.  
“There was a contortionist. She twisted and bent her body in grotesque ways that shouldn't have been humanly possible. They called her The Snake and she lived up to the name. A white body suit clung to her body like her skin itself. Silver patterns of flowers and vines decorated her all over. She was an ironic spot of purity in the sinful tent. Or that's at least how she was initially presented.   
“I remember how her blond curls rippled down her back and the gold of them shone even in the dim, eerie lighting. Her smile was the stars of heaven come down to earth and her gray eyes were so wide. She was beautiful. And she wasn't alone in her acts.” Miss Darnbell stopped abruptly as if she could not speak any further. Her lower jaw clamp tightly shut and her lips pressed sharply together in a thin white line.   
“Miss Darnbell?” The girl asked tentatively.  
“No, that's all I'm saying. I'm sorry I shouldn't have chosen to speak about her. I... I knew it would lead to him. “ Miss Darnbell shook her graying hair and the girl could tell this interview was over.


	3. Chapter 3

FILE NAME: Unknown

REPORTING OFFICER: Klein, Daniel

VICTIM NAME: di Angelo, Bianca

://Error: 427//: Computer cannot retrieve full document

NEWS ARTICLE- “The decaying body of 14 year old Bianca di Angelo was found on November 27, 2002 by prospecting civilian, Amy Klein... Miss di Angelo was an underage and underpaid performer at ▬... Suspected of illegal immigration... Location of younger brother, Nico di Angelo, currently unknown... Based on head injuries murder is suspected...Questioning of ▬ will pursue...”


	4. Chapter 4

“Annabeth.” He said in one cool word. His voice was silky and fine, coarse and rough, and more perfect than the stars.  
Annabeth didn't even bother to turn around to speak with, just continued on stretching.  
“Yes?” She brought her right leg over her shoulder, curling herself into a ball. She had to be prepared for tonight's act, they were in a new town with new people.  
The thing about these towns was they thought they were special. They thought they were the only ones visited by the respectable freak show. They didn't realize that the performers were constantly on the move, constantly stirring up trouble when towns got blanketed in warm peace. Tranquility was overrated.   
The man uncurled her from her position, much to her annoyance and brought her to her feet. Annabeth felt his strong arms pulling her up then wrapping them around her midriff. He placed a lingering kiss on her neck and she pretended not to shiver.  
“I was wondering if you'd like to take part in my act tonight?” He said right to her ear in a low, husky whisper.   
“And have knives thrown at my head?” She whispered back, turning her head so their lips were grazing each other.  
“I promise they won't hurt a tiny blonde hair on your head.”   
She loved the feel of his warmth against hers. His breath becoming her breath. She loved him.  
“Well if you say so.”  
He grinned at her in wolfish delight.   
“You, my dear, are the best.”  
“I know.” Annabeth sad placing a quick kiss on his lips before returning to her stretches.  
She trusted him with all her heart. She knew he was an expert at what he did.  
So then why did she feel apprehension at being his partner tonight? She had been multiple times before and like he said, one of his knives never hurt her.   
Yet the anxiety crept up into her muscles and down her spine like a taunting spider. She tried to suppress a shiver. Too bad this one wasn't caused by a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy Klein's hand crept down the spine of the old, browned book. The gold labeling had come off from years of exposure in the small town library making it read, "T E MIL ERT N F AK SH"

instead of, "THE MILLERTOWN FREAK SHOW." She wondered if she could even call it a book, it was really just a photo album.

She knew the book probably hadn't been touched in decades with it's thick lining of dust and placement in the very back of the library on a shelf that was hard to spot even when someone knew where it was. The librarian, who'd worked there for the past forty years, didn't even know the book was in existence until she looked it up in the old filing cabinet.

Inside were decades old photos dating back to the 1920s and earlier with little snippets of the history behind each faded image. Many of them were yellowed and the faces indistinguishable, but that didn't do anything to lessen the peak of interest Amy had in the town's old legend. The freak show still came to town, only it wasn't called a "freak show" anymore and was advertised as a circus. The town's mayor had been trying to show it down for years, but they hadn't had any violations yet. Though they came close...

Amy shoved that thought to the back of her mind, not letting it fog her well-being. She was still surprised that the police couldn't find substantial evidence to bring the forsaken thing down and demolish it, but even after the death of the girl and speculation from the press, nothing was found to be against code in the ancient tents.

Again, Amy had to force herself to suppress the memories that still haunted her after all these years. It was over a decade since she acquired them anyways.

She flipped through the thick pages, eyeing each person or people featured in a photograph. There were conjoined twins with light curly hair in one picture, standing in front of the familiar striped tent. Underneath it read, "Castor and Pollux- born in Iceland in 1911 were found abandoned by ringleader, Dionysus, and brought to America in 1920. Both died in 1926 after attempted separation."

She shivered a little, her red hair crossing into her eyes. The pair stared eerily at the camera in the photo, both expressionless, both already looking like ghosts.

She continued to flip through the pages stopping only when something really stood out. She was eyeing a picture of a blonde girl contorted in a pretzel shape when she spotted a crown of dark, familiar hair from the corner of her eye. Something went off in Amy's head, like an alert signal to stop what she was doing and vacate the premise, but she went and looked at the picture anyways.

In a picture by herself was a very pale girl, with very long locks of black, wavy hair and chocolate eyes. Underneath the photo read, "Caprice Barzetti, age 14- Queen of Ghosts," but Amy knew that wasn't Caprice. The withered and skeletal girl in the photo was Bianca di Angelo, the same Bianca di Angelo she found dead on the beach back in 2002. This photo was from 1932, seventy years earlier.

Her head spun as if she had taken too many tequila shots. She felt a wave crash down on her from the heavens. Her mind brought her back to that fateful November day.

She had just been looking for loose change or fallen rings with her metal detector as she did on her days off from work and school. Amy was saving for a trip to Hawaii and so far just from her weekly outings of metal detecting had made over a thousand dollars for the vacation. She was ecstatic when the machine had begun beeping over a nice clear area of sand.

Amy had begun digging, expecting to find a lost bracelet or a few quarters. She hadn't expected to find a cold, pale hand with a crescent moon bracelet. She hadn't expected to find the dead body of a fourteen year old.

She was only twenty-two when she found the deceased Bianca di Angelo. She had called the police station and her cousin, Daniel Klein, was put on the case. She remembered throwing up on the side after the uncovering and how it had taken weeks of therapy to get over the situation.

She never visited the beach again.

Amy knew Bianca di Angelo was once a beautiful girl, it was evident in her corpse and the finding of her body nearly shut down the freak show as her body showed signs of foul play linked back to the happenings in the red and white tents. Fortunately for the show, nothing was ever found to convict them of anything, not even Bianca being an underage worker (somehow they had papers showing she was licensed to work, despite it being illegal in their state).

But that was in 2002 and now Amy Klein was thirty-six years old and in the library flipping through a photo album dating from the 1920s and 30s and even earlier than that. She couldn't understand the same Bianca di Angelo could be featured in a photo from 1932 when she died in 2002. She couldn't understand how both the picture and the corpse were identical.

Her world began to grow darker and darker...

Hey sorry for the long update! Please be patient and recognize that updates are going to be long. School is very demanding at this moment and writing isn't normally how I spend my downtime when I actually get downtime. I hope this doesn't sound wrong, but this fic is not my top priority. I have lots of homework every night and on weekends and just really hope you will respect that I will not have quick updates. That doesn't mean I don't want to write and share this with you, it just means that patience is key with reading this. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

“Luke, you can't do this. I will tell Chiron.” Percy growled, the stench of anger wafted in the humid air of the enclosed tent. Static electricity crackled endlessly between the blonde and him.  
An arrogant smirk danced on Luke's face, his scar crinkled with the intensity of lightning, ready to fatally strike.   
“If you want to keep your precious princess alive, then you won't go to Chiron. I think you know very well what I'm capable of.” Luke said tauntingly, the cockiness in his smile beginning to slip away into something far more treacherous. A snap of electricity passed from his fingers. A sickening shiver crawled itself down Percy's back on a scar he tried too hard to forget about. He did know very well what Luke was capable of.  
Percy huffed, trying to keep up a persona of nonchalance and not let his cowardice shine through the feeble facade.   
“I can move your blood and you dare to threaten me?” Percy was honestly a little astonished and Luke's ignorance. At least Percy had the ability to recognize equals, unlike Luke who placed himself on an untouchable pedestal.   
“Now, now Percy,” Luke said as if scolding a foolish toddler, feigning shame in his voice. “Don't you remember, water is such a great conductor of electricity.” Percy's face dropped a bit. It was true, but that didn't exempt Luke from the rule. Percy could have him fry himself to Hell.  
Percy's unshaken face dissatisfied Luke and a frown crinkled the slashing scar.  
“Well, if you're not afraid of me, do you remember my friends?” Luke seemed a bit rueful having to use others in his fear tactic. “They'd have no problem taking your beloved. I'm sure she'd be great use to them.”  
Now, Percy was afraid. He stood frozen in place.   
“And after all those decades together, loving each other. Where would you be without Annabeth? You'd be sad and broken. Lost. You'd feel the guilt of her life pressing on your shoulders every single day for the rest of your life. Do you want that? All you have to do is loosen a screw and your safety along with Annabeth's is guaranteed.”  
Percy wanted to hurl at the sight of Luke's manically, gleeful smile.  
“Besides,” Luke whispered in his ear. “You'll just be sending the Queen of Ghosts back to her friends. No, problem there. Caprice will love that.”   
“Her name isn't Caprice. It's Oria.” He kept his voice stoic and even to show defiance.  
“Oh, is that what she's going by now?” Luke sneered.  
“No, it's what she's always gone by since we found her.” His voice was still still.  
“It's funny how she always changes her name, yet her little brother remains Nico. Seems like a secret Oria wishes me not to know.”   
“What is the point of this?” A small snarl wormed it's way into his tone. Luke saw the ember and began to stoke the flame.  
“Oh, there's no point. Not really. So, will you loosen the screw?”  
No response came.  
“I thought that would be the case. It's a good thing too, Annabeth always seemed to be a good little toy.”  
Percy raised his fist.  
“Ah, ah,ah. Not so fast.” Luke wagged his finger.  
Percy lowered his arm slowly.  
“Fine. I'll do it.”  
Luke clapped him on the back.   
“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Hey!! So I'm sorry if that last note on the previous chapter seemed a bit rude or hostile, that was not my intention! I had read it over and thought it came off that way, but summer's coming up so I might be able to update sooner! Thank you for all the reviews, they make it all the more fun to write :)


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